Chapter 4
Her voice lowered.
“But when it was me standing in front of you, you needed an investigation before you could decide whether the woman you planned to marry was a thief.”
“Isabella—”
“I asked you twice.”
His face hardened with pain.
She continued.
“Twice, Dante.”
Nobody interrupted.
“You could have searched my bag. You could have searched my car. You could have searched every room I entered tonight. I wouldn’t have cared.”
She touched her chest.
“But I asked whether you believed I stole from your family.”
Her eyes burned.
“And you couldn’t say no.”
Dante had no answer.
That was answer enough.
Isabella picked up her coat.
Carlo moved slightly toward her.
“Maybe you should wait until—”
She turned on him.
“Stay away from me.”
Something flickered across his face.
Small.
But she saw it.
And suddenly Isabella remembered.
The invoices.
Carlo asking about them.
Her handbag sitting unattended while she spoke with Katarina before dinner.
Carlo passing through the dining room twice.
Her heartbeat changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
She looked at Dante.
Then at Carlo.
Carlo smiled faintly.
“You look like you want to accuse me of something.”
Isabella stared at him.
“No.”
She put on her coat.
“I prefer evidence.”
Carlo’s smile disappeared.
She walked out.
This time, Dante did not stop her.
That hurt more than she expected.
Isabella made it seven blocks before she pulled her car to the curb.
Her hands were shaking too badly to drive.
She sat beneath a streetlamp and finally cried.
Not because Sophia had accused her.
Sophia had never fully trusted outsiders.
Not because the necklace had been planted.
She knew she could prove that eventually.
She cried because Dante had looked at her like a suspect.
She had spent three years loving a man whose entire existence was built around loyalty.
And the first time her loyalty had been tested, he had asked for evidence.
Her phone rang.
Dante.
She rejected it.
Again.
Rejected.
Marco.
Rejected.
Katarina.
She hesitated.
Then answered.
“Isabella?”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I will be.”
“Dante is losing his mind.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“He has security tearing the house apart.”
“He should.”
“Isabella, he knows you didn’t—”
“No.”
Her voice stopped Katarina.
“He suspects I didn’t.”
Silence.
“There’s a difference.”
Katarina had no response.
Isabella wiped her face.
Then she remembered something.
“Katarina.”
“Yes?”
“Is Carlo still there?”
A pause.